Motherhood had left me drained in ways I never imagined. I had read all the books, attended the classes, listened to advice from friends, yet nothing prepared me for how utterly consuming it would be to care for a newborn. Our son, Oliver, was born in late spring. He was perfect — healthy, rosy-cheeked, with a little tuft of brown hair that stuck up no matter how often I smoothed it down. But from the first night home, sleep became a rare luxury. He cried endlessly, feeding every two hours, and my body ached from both exhaustion and the recovery….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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